It was a hot summer day. A girl sat on her front porch, pondering her future. It was, after all, the first day of high school. This was the beginning of the rest of her life- and, if not the rest of her life, the beginning of four terrifyingly elusive years. While she had many things to look forward to- friends to make, things to learn, broadened horizons- she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly petrified. In addition to fear, this girl felt longing. She’d just moved to a new town; she had relocated and uprooted her entire existence. As she sat on her front porch, her stomach churned. Her mind raced with adrenaline; her heart beat with fright and yearning.
As she stepped into her school, however, the emotional cocktail produced a surprising effect. Rather than racing to her first class and sitting in the back or crying in the bathroom, the girl felt a bizarre sense of content. It seemed that crossing the threshold of this new territory manifested her emotions in a seemingly antithetical way. She smiled at the unfamiliar faces in the hallway and cracked jokes during the introductory-segments of her classes. Instead of taking her cafeteria tray to the bathroom and eating her lunch in a confined stall, she sat down at a table of people she didn’t know and introduced herself.
While she’d had friends at her old school, she’d never been outgoing. She was never the type to wave at boys she didn’t know or strike up conversations with random girls in the hallway. She had stuck to her group of friends, accepting the fact that people could potentially misconstrue her timidity as aloofness. Yet, this no longer appeared to be the case. The girl was fielding compliments on her friendliness; because she was approaching people, people were approaching her. By the end of the day, she was surrounded with people- all of whom wanted to be her friend. She had made a name for herself as being exciting and gregarious without even trying.
When she got home that night, her parents asked the typical first-day-of-school questions. Did she enjoy herself? Were the people nice? Did she make any friends? The answer to all of the questions was ‘yes.’ The girl went up to her room and sat on her bed and considered, for the first time that day that her actions had been relatively uncharacteristic. It was only then that she remembered that she was shy; it was only at that moment that she recalled her discomfort around people she didn’t know. Even at that moment, the prospect of dealing with unfamiliar people made her uncomfortable. The prospect of returning to school the next day with hundreds of adolescents she didn’t know caused her stomach to churn once again.
She wondered how it was possible that she’d behaved in such a way. She was thrilled with her ability to handle the new atmosphere, but petrified of having to do it again. The girl had always been aware of her bashfulness; she had considered manufacturing artificial sociability, but never turned the idea into reality. That night when she went to bed, she wasn’t just lonely and scared- she was confused.
Nevertheless, she got up the next morning and went to school. Once again, she was extroverted and magnetic. That afternoon, however, she returned home- only to feel the same negative emotions as she had the previous nights. The process repeated for months, until she finally acclimated to her new environment. At that point, she truly felt comfortable. And while the emotional mechanism stopped protecting her feelings, she finally had enough people surrounding her that she didn’t feel lonely or scared.
As she stepped into her school, however, the emotional cocktail produced a surprising effect. Rather than racing to her first class and sitting in the back or crying in the bathroom, the girl felt a bizarre sense of content. It seemed that crossing the threshold of this new territory manifested her emotions in a seemingly antithetical way. She smiled at the unfamiliar faces in the hallway and cracked jokes during the introductory-segments of her classes. Instead of taking her cafeteria tray to the bathroom and eating her lunch in a confined stall, she sat down at a table of people she didn’t know and introduced herself.
While she’d had friends at her old school, she’d never been outgoing. She was never the type to wave at boys she didn’t know or strike up conversations with random girls in the hallway. She had stuck to her group of friends, accepting the fact that people could potentially misconstrue her timidity as aloofness. Yet, this no longer appeared to be the case. The girl was fielding compliments on her friendliness; because she was approaching people, people were approaching her. By the end of the day, she was surrounded with people- all of whom wanted to be her friend. She had made a name for herself as being exciting and gregarious without even trying.
When she got home that night, her parents asked the typical first-day-of-school questions. Did she enjoy herself? Were the people nice? Did she make any friends? The answer to all of the questions was ‘yes.’ The girl went up to her room and sat on her bed and considered, for the first time that day that her actions had been relatively uncharacteristic. It was only then that she remembered that she was shy; it was only at that moment that she recalled her discomfort around people she didn’t know. Even at that moment, the prospect of dealing with unfamiliar people made her uncomfortable. The prospect of returning to school the next day with hundreds of adolescents she didn’t know caused her stomach to churn once again.
She wondered how it was possible that she’d behaved in such a way. She was thrilled with her ability to handle the new atmosphere, but petrified of having to do it again. The girl had always been aware of her bashfulness; she had considered manufacturing artificial sociability, but never turned the idea into reality. That night when she went to bed, she wasn’t just lonely and scared- she was confused.
Nevertheless, she got up the next morning and went to school. Once again, she was extroverted and magnetic. That afternoon, however, she returned home- only to feel the same negative emotions as she had the previous nights. The process repeated for months, until she finally acclimated to her new environment. At that point, she truly felt comfortable. And while the emotional mechanism stopped protecting her feelings, she finally had enough people surrounding her that she didn’t feel lonely or scared.